Mary clapped her hands, and Sister Julia continued, "I took it for granted that you would approve of my plan, and called Liza to help me carry in this table from your playroom. We shall place it close to your bed. She has gone for the tablecloth and dishes."
"Sister, please ask her to use my great-grandmother's set—the ones with the plain gold band and the beautiful C on them. Uncle likes those best. And flowers—we must have flowers."
"The roses your uncle brought at noon will be just the thing."
"Roses? Oh, now I remember—and I hardly looked at them. Poor Uncle! Is there a pretty bud among them, Sister?—Please cut off part of the stem, and Liza will put it on his dresser for him to wear. Sister! wouldn't it be fun to write him an invitation exactly like the kind Mother sends when she has a dinner party? I have a lovely box of paper with M. S. in blue and gold up in the corner. We shall seal it and paste an old stamp on it and make a postmark just as the girls at Maryvale did with the letters they sent me by Aunt Mary. Liza will lay it on the hall table where Uncle will see it the minute he comes in."
Sister Julia seated herself at Mary's little desk and soon had the following invitation written:
Miss Mary Selwyn requests the pleasure of Doctor Francis P. Carlton's company at dinner on Thursday, November eighteenth, at six o'clock.
"That is exactly what Mother says in her invitations. Did—did Uncle say he would go to dinner when you telephoned, Sister?"
"Yes, dear, your message made him so happy that he said he would order a Thanksgiving dinner a week ahead of time."
"That is so, isn't it, Sister? A week from to-day will be Thanksgiving. And Father and Mother and the babies won't be here; and they will be away for Christmas and New Year's Day and Mother's birthday and Valentine's Day and Father's birthday and for Easter and my birthday and Fourth of July and Uncle's birthday and the twinnies'——" Mary's voice broke in a sob.
"But think of all the happy days that you will spend with them next year and for many, many years to come, dear. You think the babies very sweet and cunning now, and so they are; but in another year, you will find them far more so. They will be learning to talk and will keep you very busy running after them to see that they do not get into mischief or fall down the stairs. You will be a great help to Aunt Mandy then, for she is scarcely spry enough to run after one baby,—to say nothing of two. So just think of the happy times ahead, dear, and you will be surprised to find how quickly this year will slip by. Come, dry your eyes. It will never do to have your uncle find you crying. Can you think of anything else that will help to make our surprise for him a greater success?"